


The Kissing Prompt Collection

by wumbo_requiem



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Kissing, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wumbo_requiem/pseuds/wumbo_requiem
Summary: A compilation of fics from a tumblr kissing prompt list.
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Skwisgaar Skwigelf, Serveta Skwigelf & Skwisgaar Skwigelf, Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Skwisgaar/Magnus: Caught Off-Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're at a party and it's fluffy :)

“Dis parties ams lame, ja? Is dat how you says? Lame?” Skwisgaar leans in, practically shouting into Magnus’ ear over the noise of the party. Loud, upbeat nu metal pounds through speakers while people hoot and slur their drunken conversations. Magnus’ nose twitches at the stench of beer on Skwisgaar’s breath. He doesn’t know how much more he can take of the people around them. The only thing tethering him to this place is his only companion, Skwisgaar. They don’t have words for what they are, but they’re not enjoying this party _together,_ not even sitting a foot apart against the wall of someone’s busy living room.

“Yeah that’s how you say it. I would have put it in different words. See: this party _sucks ass_. There’s a new one for you.” Magnus gestures with his hands in front of him, as if setting the scene. “Should we split?” he asks hopefully.

Skwisgaar is laughing. “Mm, nos. Pickle and Nathans ams still heres, and we gots to keeps dem out of another fights. And I dunnos where Murderface ams.”

Magnus takes a swig of his own beer. “Hell if I know.” So now they’re stuck here for even longer, great. Picking at the carpet in front of him, Magnus racks his brain for something to do to keep them busy. The problem is party games are all lame. But what if he pulled a little prank on Skwisgaar? That just might be fun.

“Hey Skwisgaar. D’you wanna have a staring contest?”

Skwisgaar balks at him. “Like dat amn’ts alsos a lame things to do?”

“Oh. So you think you can’t win?” Magnus can’t help but smirk.

“Nos- dat amnt’s-!”

“No, no, I get it. It’s alright if you don’t want to play, because you know I’ll win. That’s fine.”

Skwisgaar looks like his blood’s about to boil. “Alrights, I’ll plays.” 

The two lock eyes, sky blue on dirt dark brown. Neither of them are about to give in so easily. Skwisgaar grins wide (something which has always looked particularly unnerving on him), trying to get his opponent to crack, to which Magnus just crosses his arms. He can feel his eyes starting to water and-- Skwisgaar blinks first. Now he can too.

Cursing, Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut, admitting defeat. Now’s his chance. Magnus leans forward, hesitating as he looks down on Skwisgaar’s pale and annoyed but perfect visage, then gives him a short, sweet kiss on the lips. _I win._

Skwisgaar’s eyes shoot open. “What ams you doings?! Someone could sees us!” He hisses, just loud enough for Magnus to hear. He looks around them frantically.

Magnus lays a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Nobody saw. Everyone’s too drunk or high to care.” Even if they did, Magnus would tell them to mind their business, even if that meant using his fist. 

The look on Skwisgaar’s face is priceless. He’s blushing, and trying so hard to look like he isn’t having it. Yet he’s so hopelessly transparent as he brushes a strand of blond behind his ear, and looks away from Magnus shyly. 

Magnus just sits back, satisfied, eyes returning to the carpet in front of him. The boldness within him gives way to butterflies, and he almost can’t believe he did what he did. If this party, which seems to be stretching on forever, ever ends, maybe he’ll be able to surprise Skwisgaar with a few more at home. 

Until then, he slides his hand along the dirty carpet, feeling for Skwisgaar’s fingers. He’s met with a surprised jolt, then feels skinny fingers wrap around his. After some awkward adjustments, their hands fit into each other’s nicely, discreet.

It’s almost nothing, but it’s a nice way to pass the time. 


	2. Skwisgaar/Toki: I Almost Lost You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some post-doomstar angst.

It’s a long, quiet ride back to Mordhaus. Hardly a word is said the whole way back. After the Dethlights were activated, everyone is nearly passed out in the back of the dethlimo. Skwisgaar is however still on edge. It’s funny, he thinks, how even though they’re Gods now, they still need a ride, like some regular jackoffs they never were. 

Toki’s head sits cradled between both hands in Skwisgaar’s lap. The emaciated body of the younger guitarist lies across the back seat, his arms curled inward. Skwisgaar watches over him, watches his pale eyes flutter open and shut, watches as he makes little mewls of discomfort every time they hit a bump. Strokes the hair out of his face when he turns over. Holds him close.

Skwisgaar’s breath is shaky. It’s as if what he holds in his hands, something more precious than even his first guitar, could slip away from him at any moment. Toki has taken a lot of damage over the months, and after this last exertion of energy, he looks like if he falls asleep, he might never wake up again.

_Don’t think like that_ , Skwisgaar reminds himself. He has to keep it together now. After being so lost for so long, he has to keep it together, for both of them. He needs to keep Toki awake until they can get to the hospital.

The ends of Skwisgaar’s hair dangle down, lightly brushing Toki’s shoulder and face. Toki smiles, scrunching up his nose as he brushes a strand of blond away.

“That tickles,” he croaks, then clears his throat, startled at how hoarse his own voice is. Skwisgaar winces, placing a hand on Toki’s chest. 

“Don’t strains yourself, Tokis.” His voice breaks, barely any more coherent than the other. He bites his quivering lip. _Don’t cry on him. Keep it together._

Skwisgaar hasn’t been this emotional around others in a long time. The tears that sting in his eyes bring him back to an early, simpler time, when he was face down on a table, crying in his makeup before the show. Charles- who is, once again, no longer with them- had come in and asked him if he’d been crying. He’d told him he was just getting high, which was a lie, but at least _plausible_. He doesn’t have that excuse this time around. Which is why he needs to just keep it together.

Toki’s eyes flutter closed again. For some reason, this pushes Skwisgaar over the edge. He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes profusely with the front of his shirt, but they just keep coming. Wet, hot, soundless tears. The other guys don’t seem to notice or care.

So overcome with emotions he couldn’t speak without sobbing, Skwisgaar bends down and presses his lips against Toki’s hairline, right above his ear. He stays there for a long minute, teardrops inevitably falling onto Toki’s cheek. He can’t stop them.

Skwisgaar’s name gets caught in Toki’s throat, and comes out as a strangled questioning sound as Toki wipes at his cheek. Skwisgaar draws back from the slowest, most tender kiss he’s ever given.

“I was sures,” his voice wavers, “I- I lost yous.” Toki isn’t going to remember any of this, so he pours his heart out, quietly. “You was gones for so longs. I th-thoughts you was dead.”

“Shhhh, Skwisgaar,” Toki manages, patting Skwisgaar weakly on the arm. “I ams right heres. Don’ts cry.”

“I amn’t-” He stops himself. Who is he fooling? If he were wearing mascara, it would be running in dark streaks down his face right now. He’s glad he doesn’t bother with makeup these days, for that reason. “I’m sorries it took so longs…” _There are a lot of things I’m sorry for, Toki._

“You’s here now, right? That ams enough.”

_It’s not enough, but it’ll have to be for now._

Skwisgaar wipes his wet face again, and leans down again, this time kissing Toki quickly on the forehead. He smiles in response. Skwisgaar does it again, and again. 

_Toki isn’t going to remember any of this._


	3. Skwisgaar/Magnus: Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> preklok era, after the big fight. angsty :(

Sacks of Magnus’ shabby personal belongings sit on the floor of the tiny room that used to be his. Many of his things sit untouched- things he doesn’t need, or can’t bring. Like some old records, a chair, an empty picture frame.

Skwisgaar stands against the door, hands on his hips, looking down at the measly items. “Dis ams all you’s taking with yous?” He asks, quirking a brow at Magnus.

“Yeah. I got nowhere to go, and this is about as much as I can take to the nearest motel. So you can do whatever you want with my shit. Throw it out, keep it- up to you.” He sounds despondent. More so than he ever has.

Skwisgaar opens his mouth, and shuts it. He wants to help Magnus, he really does, but there’s nothing he can do. It’s not like he has an alternative. He steps closer, closing the gap between them in the dark, claustrophobic room. “Promiske mes you’ll takes care of yourself,” he whispers, not wanting the other bandmates to overhear.

Magnus sighs. His eyes, one half-closed, are filled with contempt. It isn’t directed at _Skwisgaar_ , but rather at the whole situation. “I don’t know how you can trust a word I say at this point. But sure, if that’s what makes you feel better, I promise.”

He pushes past Skwisgaar, stooping to pick up his stuff. Skwisgaar notices something sticking out of Magnus’ back pocket. A piece of paper? No- a photograph. A pang of sadness hits Skwisgaar as it dawns on him. It’s the picture of the band. A band that is no more, after Magnus leaves tonight.

“Waits-”

Magnus, hand on the doorknob, turns back around to look at Skwisgaar. “For what?”

“Don’ts leaves yet.” Skwisgaar picks at his nails.

“They-” Magnus walks back and lowers his voice again. “They don’t want me here any longer, babe. I need to go, before Nate kicks my ass again.” He laughs, but he’s not smiling.

Skwisgaar hears his heartbeat pound as Magnus’ fingertips settle on his jaw. He looks into those dark eyes once again. Is this the last time they’ll ever be like this? He closes his eyes, leans in- will this be the last time they kiss?

Their lips clash, hungrier and more desperate than ever before. Skwisgaar grabs Magnus’ hair, causing him to drop everything and pull Skwisgaar off his feet. He melts. They break away, then kiss again, still not having had enough of each other. Maybe they could stay like this for longer. If only they had more time.

But their passion is fleeting. Magnus picks up his belongings, and as he bends down, the photograph flutters out of his pocket, onto the floor. Skwisgaar picks it up in a swooping motion and presses it to Magnus’ chest. 

“Keeps dis in a safe place, okays? Don’ts forgets about it.” _About us. About_ me _._

Magnus snatches it and tucks it into his shirt pocket, where it fits in snug, and closes the button over it. “...Got it. I won’t. ...See you.” Then he turns again, and this time, Skwisgaar lets him go.


	4. Skwisgaar and Serveta: Exhausted Parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're just trying to get by :')

It was the middle of winter and the landscape around their tiny house was white as far as the eye could see, punctuated by tall trees slanted by the wind. Serveta and Skwisgaar were kept warm by the fire inside. The mother kept a close eye on her son as he held his hands close to the flame.

_“Be careful, son. Not so close,”_ she warned in their native tongue. 

He frowned at her, eyebrows drawn in. _“I’m so cold, mama.”_

She sighed, looking at her little boy. She was doing the best she could for both of them. They didn’t have much here- not even heat. They were on their own. And as she looked at Skwisgaar, nose and cheeks red, blond hair a mess, wearing a little knit white sweater, she felt as if she wasn’t doing enough. But what could she do, in the middle of a blizzard?

_“Why don’t you put on jacket, darling?”_ She suggested with a smile, staying strong.

_“...Okay.”_ She laughed- it appeared to have not occurred to him. Watching with amusement as he waddled off to grab his coat from the closet, she got up, sore, and slipped into the kitchen. The water she had boiled was a drinkable temperature now- she poured two mugs full, and added a tea bag and a drop of honey to each. 

Sitting back down, she set the mugs on their little wooden table and watched Skwisgaar, who’d returned, struggle to get an arm through his coat. 

_“Let me help-”_ she moved to grab one of the sleeves, but he jerked away with a pout that said ‘I can do this myself!’ Typical Skwisgaar- he was already becoming such an independent boy. He tried and got stuck again, making a little fussy sound. His eyes started to water. _“Skwisgaar, are you sure you don’t want help?”_

He plopped down on the ground and looked up at her defeated. _“Yes please, mama,”_ he said.

Serveta calmly took Skwisgaar’s tiny hand and pulled it through the sleeve. “There. That wasn’t so hard…” She brushed a tear from Skwisgaar’s face. “Don’t cry. You don’t want icicles stuck to your face,” she giggled. Skwisgaar smiled as his mom did up the coat’s buttons. _“Come here.”_

Taking him into her arms, Serveta closed her eyes. Although things were rough, and she wasn’t always an outstanding mother, she still had what was most important to her, her son. She placed a weary kiss upon his head, touching his soft hair gently. It was the same colour as hers, but wispier. He curled up into her arms, getting comfy. 

_Warmer days are ahead, my son._


End file.
